


a rope in hand for your other man

by djelibeybi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hyle being a golddigging little shit but we love him anyway, Jealousy, Post LSH, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djelibeybi/pseuds/djelibeybi
Summary: Brienne won't fight Hyle, so Jaime does it instead.





	1. Chapter 1

After Brienne had killed Lady Stoneheart, after they’d managed to escape from the Brotherhood with their lives, after they’d finally found a dingy inn to rest in and after Brienne had finally stopped moping about how she had betrayed her lady and broken her vows, Hyle expected the Kingslayer to leave them. He was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, after all, surely he had duties to take care of. Surely it was beneath him to trek around the Riverlands on a fool’s errand with a child, a hedge knight and the Beauty of Tarth, looking for a girl who could be anywhere, a girl who could be dead.

At least, Hyle hoped it was beneath him.

But apparently it was not. The morning after they had arrived at the inn, he came down for breakfast and announced that the finding of Sansa Stark was his responsibility, and that he would be taking over the task alone.

Brienne was shaking her head vehemently before he had even finished speaking. Her bandage was off, her ruined cheek on display for the first time, and the mark of the noose was still visible on her neck. “It was my oath, too,” she said.

“No,” said the Kingslayer without looking up from the bread he was buttering. “_You_ swore to return me to King’s Landing safely. _I _swore to return the Stark girls to their mother. You fulfilled your oath. Now I’ll fulfil mine.”

“You charged _me_ with finding Sansa Stark. I know I failed you, but –”

“You did not _fail_ me.” The Kingslayer glared at Brienne. “Don’t you understand? I should have done this myself, but I thought I could just give you a sword and send you off and consider my honour restored. Then you came back to me with half your cheek bitten off and I realised I was wrong. I’ll put you in no more danger, Brienne. Sail back home to your isle of sapphires and let me deal with the consequences of my own actions for once.”

Brienne looked dismayed. Pod was blinking up at her worriedly. Hyle did not feel too thrilled at this development himself. He had hoped for more time to persuade Brienne to marry him, to prove himself worthy. The night before, she had told him wearily that she would consider his proposal, which he saw as great progress; he had not gotten even that much out of her before. But it would take her a long time to consider, he knew. He had hoped to perform some great heroic gesture on the way to Sansa, something out of the tales he knew she loved. What exactly, he had no idea, but he had been confident that the opportunity would arise. If they parted now, all his hopes were dashed.

“You cannot force me to abandon my quest, ser,” Brienne was saying to the Kingslayer, her jaw set in that stubborn way with which Hyle was more than familiar. “I made my own vows to Lady Catelyn.”

“Whom you have just killed,” the Kingslayer reminded her.

It was a low blow. Brienne’s face fell. Hyle hoped she would not start crying again. She had done little else since she had driven her sword into Lady Stoneheart, though she had tried (poorly) to hide it. She had only stopped after a long, quiet conversation with the Kingslayer in her room the night before, with the door slightly ajar and Hyle listening in from the corridor, though he was not sure why. What little he had heard meant nothing to him; something about the Mad King. As long as they weren’t fucking, he had decided, he was satisfied. He did not really believe they were, of course – what would a man like that want with Brienne the Beauty? - but something about the way they looked at each other unsettled him all the same.

“This will be my way of redeeming myself,” Brienne said now, her voice quiet. “I will rest easier knowing that even if I failed Lady Catelyn, her daughters are safe. Or one of them, at least. Please, Jaime.”

She looked so pitiful with her big blue eyes and her ruined cheek that the Kingslayer relented. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “You can come.” He looked at Pod and Hyle. “But the other two…”

“I don’t want to leave my lady,” Pod said immediately, eyes wide with panic.

Brienne nodded. “He stays with me.”

“And as for me,” Hyle said quickly, “I don’t think it would be proper to leave my betrothed on such a dangerous quest, in the company of another man.” He smiled at Brienne. “Don’t you think so, _my sweet_?”

Brienne flushed. The Kingslayer stared at each of them in turn. Hyle was pleased to see that for the first time, he looked rattled.

“_Betrothed_?” he said.

“No,” Brienne snapped. “I said I’d _consider_ his proposal. I did not accept it.”

“So you made a proposal.” The Kingslayer narrowed his green eyes at Hyle. “You’re an ambitious lad, it seems. I had not heard of your house, I confess, but I imagine it’s not much compared to House Tarth.”

“No, it’s not,” Hyle agreed pleasantly. “Hence why I proposed. I am sure there would be worthier matches for Lady Brienne, but for some strange reason, she doesn’t seem to be getting many offers.”

There was a tense pause. Then the Kingslayer raised an eyebrow. “Well, mayhaps that’s because of the conditions she sets. Am I correct, Brienne?”

Hyle frowned. “Conditions?” Brienne had not mentioned any conditions.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brienne mumbled.

“Brienne,” the Kingslayer announced, with an odd hint of triumph in his voice, “will not marry any man who cannot outfight her.”

Hyle stared at her, his heart sinking. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I made that rule a long time ago,” Brienne said quietly. “I will not enforce it.”

The Kingslayer shook his head. “Well, that’s disappointing. How else will the lad prove himself worthy?”

“He already has proven himself worthy,” said Brienne, somewhat grudgingly. “He is helping us search for Sansa. He fought valiantly against Lady Stoneheart and her men –”

“I mean worthy of you specifically. Why should you accept the first man who asks you, just like that? I am sure Lord Selwyn would agree.”

“You speak of my father as if you know him,” Brienne grumbled.

“You speak of him so often I feel as if I do.”

Brienne frowned. “I have never spoken to you of my father.”

“It was a joke, Brienne. I see that your sense of humour has not improved. Anyway, I think there should be a challenge.” He leaned back in his chair and looked Hyle up and down, like a cat examining a mouse it had just caught. Then he smiled. “He should fight me.”

Hyle almost choked on the water he was drinking. “What?” he spluttered. “Fight you? Why?”

“As I said. To prove yourself.”

“There is no need for that,” Brienne snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jaime. We have no time to waste on such nonsense, anyway. We must find Sansa.”

“She’s right,” said Hyle. “A waste of time.”

The Kingslayer’s smile was like a knife. “So you won’t do it?”

Hyle hesitated. “I did not say…”

“He won’t,” said Brienne. “Leave him alone, Jaime.”

Something about the way she called the Kingslayer _Jaime_, as if they knew each other intimately, irritated Hyle. She never called him anything but Ser Hyle, stiff and formal. _Leave him alone, Jaime. _As if he were a child being bullied by the older boys.

“I’ll do it,” he said suddenly.

Brienne stared at him in horror. The Kingslayer grinned.

“Excellent,” he said. “Tomorrow, at dawn. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good fight.”

That night, Hyle heard them talking as they kept watch. He was lying on his bedroll by the fire, his back to them, pretending to be asleep. Podrick snored gently nearby.

“Why do you insist on fighting Hyle?” Brienne asked in hushed tones.

“Many reasons, Brienne,” the Kingslayer replied lazily. “Just humour me.”

“You mislike him.”

“I merely think you could do better.”

“I doubt it. He spoke truthfully when he said that I have not received many offers.”

“Then don’t marry. I thought you said your father might still take another wife and have a son. If not, name Pod as your heir.”

"Pod?"

“I mean it. You would be far happier alone than married to someone who does not respect you.”

Anger coiled in Hyle’s belly. _And what makes you think I don’t respect her, you smug sister-fucking bastard? _

“This man started a bet on your maidenhead, or have you forgotten?”

_Ah. That._

“That was a long time ago,” said Brienne, though she sounded uncertain. “I believe he regrets it. He treats me honourably now.”

“And will it bother you when he lies with other women?”

Silence.

“You think it won’t,” said Jaime. His voice was low and intense. “Cersei thought that, too, because she felt nothing for Robert. But it was still a slap in the face, every time. When he comes home smelling of a whorehouse, you will still have to let him sleep beside you, and say nothing. Night after night, for the rest of your life. What if you fall in love with him? Or worse, what if you don’t? Will you lie awake and wonder if you could have had a man you truly loved, and who loved you back?”

_Seven hells, Jaime Lannister,_ thought Hyle. _Why are you doing this to me?_

When Brienne spoke again, her voice was unsteady. “What is the use of entertaining such fantasies? I will never find a man who loves me, we both know that. Hyle is the best I can hope for.”

There was a long silence. Beside Hyle, the fire crackled and spat.

“Perhaps,” the Kingslayer said at last. “But if I must see you married to that arrogant fool, at least give me the pleasure of knocking him on his arse tomorrow.”

“Jaime, do you forget you’ve lost a hand?” Brienne’s voice was soft and fond. It troubled Hyle immensely, though he could not say why.

“I’ve been training with Ilyn Payne. I will never be as good as I was, but even at half my best I’m still better than most men.”

“I am glad to see you didn’t lose your humility along with your hand.”

“Was that a joke? From Brienne of Tarth?”

A pause. “No.”

The Kingslayer laughed. “I’ve missed you, wench.”

They did not speak again, but it took Hyle a long time to fall asleep regardless.

Hyle woke a little before dawn and stared at the dark sky, listening to the soft breathing of the others as they slept around him. _When day breaks I am to fight the Kingslayer for the hand of Brienne of Tarth_. It was so absurd that for one hopeful moment he thought he might have dreamed it, but as the cold morning air seeped into his clothes beneath his thin blanket, he remembered it all with depressing clarity. “_I will never be as good as I was, but even at half my best I’m still better than most men.”_ Could he beat Jaime Lannister at half his best for the prize of Evenfall? Surely he could. He thought about it. The Evenstar, they would call him. Lord of Tarth. He imagined sitting in a beautiful solar, looking out the window at the sunset over Tarth’s sapphire waters. Brienne was there, too, with a babe in her arms, but when he tried to picture her face he could not imagine her expression. He cast the thought aside.

He would have it, he decided. Even if he lost the fight, it did not mean Brienne would reject him; she had said as much herself. She would probably be impressed that he had even fought in the first place. It would prove his dedication. And if the Kingslayer disapproved of their match, what did that matter? He was neither Brienne’s father nor her lord. What he was to her exactly Hyle did not understand, but there was no reason for Brienne to care about his opinion on who she married. He knew that much.

He sat up. Yes. It was just a stupid fight. It meant nothing. As well to get it out of the way quickly, so that they could move on to more important things.

He had only just arrived at this conclusion when the Kingslayer got up and stretched, his golden hair shining in the first light of dawn, and all of Hyle’s newfound resolve suddenly drained away as quickly as it had appeared.

“Good morning, Ser Hyle,” the Kingslayer said, grinning at him across the remains of last night’s campfire. “Are you ready to go, or shall we wait until you’re fully awake?”

“I am wide awake, ser, believe me,” said Hyle, forcing an answering smile as he reached for his sword.

Brienne sat up then, pushing her pale hair out of her face. “Already?” she complained, her voice rough with sleep. Beside her, Pod blinked at them blearily.

The Kingslayer picked up his own blade. Valyrian steel, like Brienne’s. “We did say dawn, Brienne."

"This is stupid."

"We have already heard all of your objections, thank you. The fight is going ahead. Ser Hyle and I are both raring to go."

Brienne looked at Hyle. “You don’t have to do it, you know,” she said quietly. “The outcome of this fight will not affect my decision.”

“I know,” said Hyle. He looked at Jaime. “But I think this may be about something other than your decision.”

“How perceptive of you,” said Jaime. “Shall we dance?”

Hyle barely had time to get in position before the Kingslayer came at him. It was all he could do to block his first strike in time. _Seven hells, this was a mistake. _It was immediately clear that even without his right hand, the Kingslayer was far quicker and stronger than he was. He found himself being driven back, and back, deeper into the forest, Pod and Brienne disappearing from sight as he frantically tried to ward off Jaime’s blade, with no time or space to even attempt to attack. At one point he somehow managed to graze Jaime’s arm, staining his sleeve with blood, but before the small victory had even registered he stumbled on a tree root and almost fell, allowing Jaime to land a much deeper cut just above his knee. _Tarth, _Hyle thought desperately as he righted himself. _Evenfall. Tarth. Tarth. _His arm was getting tired, but he launched himself forward with all the energy he had and made a mad, blind swing that the Kingslayer did not anticipate, cutting him again on his side. Encouraged, he swung again, but this time Jaime blocked it, pressing back so hard that Hyle lost his grip. He dropped the sword, and Jaime kicked it away before shoving Hyle to the ground.

“Yield,” the Kingslayer said calmly. He did not have so much as a bead of sweat on his perfect forehead. Hyle was panting for breath.

He stared at the tip of the sword as it hovered inches from his face, and wondered if this was the same sword that had killed the Mad King. No, that had been a golden sword, hadn’t it? That was what all the stories said. This one was Valyrian steel, rippling red and black, a twin of Brienne’s.

A sudden wild recklessness came over him. “Go on,” he said. “Kill me. I know you want to.”

Jaime said nothing. His sword did not waver.

“She would never forgive you,” said Hyle. “But that would make it so much easier for you to leave her and run back to your sister, wouldn’t it? Which we both know you’re going to do eventually.”

The Kingslayer kicked him so hard in the ribs that all the breath left his body. He wheezed a mad laugh.

“She loves you,” he gasped. “You could have her, but you won’t take her. And yet, you don’t want me to have her either. You would rather she pined for you, alone, for the rest of her life, then marry a man who would be good for her. A man who would treat her well and give her heirs. You know, she insists you’ve changed, but really you’re still just as selfish as everyone says you are. That’s the truth, isn’t it, Kingslayer?”

The Kingslayer stared down at him, green eyes cold and full of loathing. _He will kill me now_, thought Hyle. _I am going to die for Brienne of Tarth. This is the gods’ justice for hurting her with the bet. How funny._

But the Kingslayer did not kill him. He drew back his sword, turned and strode away. Hyle watched his crimson cloak ripple behind him as he disappeared through the trees.

A few moments later, Brienne came running over. “Are you hurt?” she asked worriedly, kneeling beside him.

“Not fatally, which is all that matters.”

“I told you not to fight him,” Brienne said irritably as she inspected the wound on his leg. “It seems he did not lie when he said he’d been training. I didn’t think he would be back to that standard already." She sighed. "He’s wonderful, though, isn’t he? To fight?”

_Wonderful _was not quite how Hyle would have described the experience. “You’ve fought him?”

“Only once.”

Hyle’s heart sank. “And who won?”

“I could not say for certain. His hands were chained, and we were interrupted before we could finish. Without the chains I am sure he would have beaten me easily. He would have beaten anyone.” She looked suddenly wistful. “I never fought anybody so skilled. It was so cruel of them, to take his hand.”

Hyle looked up at her. “Do you really want to marry me, Brienne? Be honest.”

Brienne chewed her lip. “No,” she admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. “I am sorry.”

He sighed, even though he knew. He had known. “You know,” he said gently, “that it’s the best offer you are ever likely to get.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t.” Her gaze drifted away from him and out into the trees. “I just can’t. But I thank you, Ser Hyle.”

He was sad for her and furious at her all at once. _You stupid girl_, he wanted to spit at her. _You have thrown away your future for a man you cannot have. _Instead he held out his arm. “Could you help me up, my lady?”

She helped him to his feet, and together they walked back towards the camp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I originally intended this as a oneshot but a few people asked for a sequel which was really nice so I thought I'd give it a go. Not sure if it's better like this or as a oneshot but ye can make up your own minds, and if you think it's better as a oneshot then just pretend this doesn't exist (as I like to do with season eight of the show, ha.)

The journey to the Vale was long, and the weather was steadily getting colder as winter approached. The day the first snow began to fall, Hyle stared at Jaime and Brienne as they rode a good distance ahead of him, deep in conversation, and wondered why he was still here. His nose was numb with cold, he had not exchanged a civil word with the Kingslayer since their duel, and Brienne had refused his proposal. But he had been dismissed from Lord Tarly’s service, and nothing else awaited him but the uncertain life of a hedge knight. At the very least, there could be some kind of reward in rescuing Sansa Stark, if they managed it; and there was always the chance that Brienne would change her mind; though he doubted it.

He stared at the Kingslayer’s golden head in the distance. _Perhaps if he dies… _The thought was sweet. Hyle would not do it, of course, but they were sure to run into danger in the Vale, and if something were to befall Jaime, Hyle could provide a comforting shoulder for Brienne to cry on. Smirking, he dug his heels into his horse and caught up with them, suddenly in much better spirits.

“…so I mean to send her back to Casterly Rock before she can turn him into another Joffrey,” the Kingslayer was saying to Brienne. Hyle looked over with interest – was he speaking of his sister? – but the Kingslayer gave him an irritated glance in return, and fell silent.

“Well met, friends,” said Hyle brightly. “It grows dark. Do we plan to stop?”

Jaime ignored him. Brienne looked from Hyle to Jaime, uncertain. It was clear that she did not quite understand the new tension that had arisen between them; Hyle had not told her of the conversation they had had after Jaime knocked him to the ground, and he did not intend to. The last thing he wanted was for Brienne to learn that the Kingslayer felt something for her, even if he was certain never to act on it.

“There is an inn not far away that should be safe enough, or so Ser Jaime says,” Brienne said at last. “We can stop there.”

“Excellent,” said Hyle. “The two of you ride very fast, by the way. I find myself struggling to keep up. Mayhaps you should keep a more moderate pace, and conserve the energy of your horses.”

“Young Podrick seems to have no issue keeping up with us,” said Jaime coldly, jerking his head in the direction of Pod, who was indeed keeping pace, though a little off to the side. “And our horses are fine. Do you ride as poorly as you fight, Hunt? Perhaps that’s the issue.”

Brienne sighed. “Jaime.”

Hyle hid his annoyance. “I ride perfectly well, ser. But I would prefer for my horse not to die of exhaustion without necessity, particularly when I have a long way to go and am not like to find another one.”

“Ride at whatever pace you like, Ser Hyle, and Brienne and I will do the same,” said the Kingslayer. His tone and expression were so innocuous that Hyle could not figure out if he had made a deliberate innuendo. Irritated, he gave up and allowed himself to fall behind again.

Things did not improve when they reached the inn. “I’m sorry, milady, we only have two rooms left,” the innkeep told Brienne. “A room for one and a room for two. Though I suppose we could fix up a third bed in that one. Will that do?”

“That would be fine, thank you,” said Brienne. Hyle winced to see the amount of coin she gave him. She had been handing out silver stags left and right the entire journey, presumably given to her by the Kingslayer before she set out. Hyle supposed he would continue to supply her if she ran out, though for some reason the thought irritated him.

“How shall we divide ourselves, then?” he asked. “I suppose the maid should take the single room.”

Podrick looked up at Brienne. “I want to stay with my lady.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot you two can’t be separated,” said Hyle. There was an awkward pause as the collective realisation dawned that either Jaime or Hyle would have to take the third bed in the double room.

“Well, my lady?” Hyle asked pointedly. “Which of us shall it be?”

Brienne chewed her lip, clearly unwilling to choose. “Perhaps you two should take that room with Pod, and I’ll take the single one. Would you mind, Pod?”

Pod said nothing, but the look on his face as he shrank closer to Brienne spoke volumes. Hyle could not blame him for not wanting to be alone with himself and Jaime at present. Brienne sighed. “All right, perhaps not.”

She looked from Hyle to Jaime as if waiting for one of them to volunteer himself for the single room, but neither spoke. The silence dragged on. _He does not trust me with her_, Hyle realised. _And I do not trust him_. It was not fear for Brienne’s virtue that he felt, but something else, something less easy to define. A fear that the Kingslayer would corrupt her in some other way. _Kingslayer’s whore, _the Brotherhood had called her, though Hyle was sure she had not lain with him. It did not matter. He did not have to lie with her to damn her.

“Come on,” Brienne said impatiently. “One of you.”

“I would stay with you,” said the Kingslayer.

“So would I,” said Hyle. “You must make the choice, my lady.”

Brienne said nothing, but the look she gave the Kingslayer gave her away. Almost an appeal. He nodded, and Hyle’s heart sank.

“All right, young Pod,” said Jaime, clapping a hand on the boy’s back. “Let’s go up.” They walked past him up the stairs, leaving Hyle alone to fume silently in the corridor.

“Why him?” Hyle hissed at Brienne later as they sat before the fire in the common area after a meagre meal of soup and bread. For once, the Kingslayer was absent; he had gone to piss, or more likely to comb his golden hair and preen at himself in a mirror.

Brienne looked away, cheeks reddening. The firelight became her, Hyle noticed; it softened her features somewhat. Even her maimed cheek looked less hideous somehow. Or perhaps he had just grown used to her face. “I didn’t mean it as an insult, Ser Hyle,” she said defensively. “It had to be one of you.”

“So why not me?” He was aware that his voice sounded petulant, and he hated it, but he could not suppress the bitterness he felt. _This is unlike me. _“Do you trust him more, is that it? When have I ever given you cause to mistrust me?”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, and once again he remembered the bet. He sighed. “I thought I had redeemed myself for that. I nearly died for it the other day, in fact. What more can I possibly do?”

“You also told me that you would steal into my bed if I left my door unbarred.”

“Well, not if Pod was in the room. And only if you wanted me to.” He looked at Brienne’s unmoved expression, and saw that he was losing. “Well, what makes the Kingslayer so much more trustworthy than I am? He could not even be trusted not to kill his own king.”

“I never sleep easily when men are around, but I had to sleep beside him for many nights on the journey from Riverrun to King’s Landing, and he never made me feel unsafe. I am not saying that you _do_,” she added impatiently when Hyle opened his mouth to object, “but I am used to sleeping near him. That’s all it is. If the two of you continue to fight over something as stupid as this, I will sleep in the stable. I mean it.”

“Very well,” said Hyle, defeated. “But I would still advise you to be careful. He may not pose any threat to your virtue, but there are many other ways he could hurt you. Just remember that.”

Brienne looked at him sharply. “I am well aware.”

He frowned, wondering what exactly that implied.

“Anyway,” Brienne continued before he could ask, “I thought that duel would have put an end to… all of this, but it only seems to have made it worse. Can you not be civil to each other?” She nodded towards Pod, who was sitting nearer the fire, his chin resting on his bony knees. “It makes Pod anxious.”

“You coddle that boy far too much. Why should it make him anxious when Ser Jaime and I argue? We are not his parents. I think you are the anxious one.”

“I am not _anxious_,” Brienne snapped. “I just don’t understand why you mislike each other so much.”

Hyle was saved from having to think of a reply when the Kingslayer returned, seating himself conspicuously at Brienne’s other side, and the conversation was over.

That night as he lay in bed, he strained to listen to their voices on the other side of the wall, but could hear nothing; so he stared up at the ceiling and wondered what it was about them that troubled him so.

_Brienne of Tarth is nothing to you, _he told himself. _She rejected your proposal. You have nothing to gain from her now. Think of Sansa Stark, think of the reward, and let the Maid of Tarth ruin her own life if she wishes._

He had almost convinced himself, and was drifting off to sleep feeling somewhat reassured, when a gasp and a loud creak of bedsprings in the next room made his eyes fly open again. He cursed himself, but listened anyway.

“Brienne?” he heard the Kingslayer say drowsily. “Are you all right?”

Even through the wall, Hyle could hear the quake in Brienne’s voice. “Fine. Just a bad dream.”

“What about?”

“Stoneheart. I have dreamt of her ever since… ever since…”

Her voice trailed into silence. A moment passed, then the Kingslayer said, “Come here.”

Hyle sat up, suddenly wide awake. _No. No, no, no._

He heard the bed creak again, the sound of quiet footsteps, then another creak. The rustle of fabric, then finally the sound of muffled sobbing, as though she was crying into his shoulder.

“I know,” the Kingslayer said quietly. “I know.”

Hyle had seen Brienne crying surreptitiously every so often since she’d killed Stoneheart, but never as openly as this. She had always been careful to hide her tears from Hyle. Something about the sound of it made him feel a strange tug on his heart. Almost like guilt. Had she wept like this when she found out about the bet? Suddenly he knew with certainty, though without understanding why, that he wanted to be the one holding her, comforting her. He also knew with equal certainty that he was not the one she wanted.

Eventually, the sobbing quietened, then ceased. “Thank you,” Brienne mumbled.

“Sleep here with me,” the Kingslayer said. “There’s room enough.”

Hyle felt suddenly ill.

“Could I?”

“Of course.” More creaking, more rustling. “Seven hells, wench. Your feet are like blocks of ice.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Come here. We’ll soon have you warm.”

_Fuck you, Jaime Lannister_, thought Hyle. _Fuck you._

Brienne said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here, Jaime.”

“I am glad too, wench. Glad you didn’t kill me.”

“I would not have.” Brienne’s voice was sleepy now. “I didn’t want to fail you. Wanted to restore your honour.”

“You have done more for me than you will ever know.” There was a gentleness in the Kingslayer’s voice that Hyle had never heard before. “Sleep now, sweetling.”

From the other side of the wall, Hyle listened as Brienne’s breathing grew slow and even, and imagined her sleeping in the Kingslayer’s arms. Because she always slept so far from him when they camped, he did not know what she looked like asleep. He tried to imagine her with a peaceful expression, and could not quite manage it.

A heavy weight settled on his chest and stayed there.

The next morning, Hyle said, “I will come no further with you.”

They all stared at him, startled, over their bowls of porridge. “Why not?” demanded Brienne. She was sitting unnecessarily close to Jaime on the other side of the table, her elbow touching his. There was a colour in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes that had not been there the day before. The sight of her made Hyle ache ever so slightly.

He forced a smile. “My lady, I have never hidden the fact that I only came with you in the hopes of winning Tarth. It is clear to me now that there is no chance of that. I wish all of you the best of luck, but I have no desire to trek through the snow with you any longer.”

Brienne looked almost disappointed. “But we have come so far. And we know for certain that we will find her in the Vale. Why turn back now? I know you don’t particularly care about Lady Sansa –”

“That is harsh of you.” _And true._

“ – but there is still the chance of a reward. And we could use your help.”

“I am no longer sure if the reward is worth it, if I am honest. I am sure there are other quests I could embark upon that would be far more economically beneficial, with considerably less risk to my own life. As for your need of my help, it is sweet of you to think that would prick my conscience, but I’m afraid I’m just not as honourable as you are.” He stood, and extended his hand to her. “Last chance to accept my proposal.”

Brienne rolled her eyes.

“I will take that as a no.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Very well. Goodbye, my lady.”

He ruffled Pod’s hair, bowed sardonically to the Kingslayer and walked away.

He was saddling his horse when he heard footsteps behind him. “And here I thought you were so determined to protect Brienne from me,” the Kingslayer said dryly. “What changed your mind?”

Hyle shrugged. “She chose you,” he said without turning. “A bizarre decision, but I can respect it, even if I don’t understand it. I suppose I have heard some call you handsome, though I personally do not see it –"

“I will not hurt her,” the Kingslayer said quietly.

Hyle mounted the horse and wheeled around to look at him. He was ready to retort, but the sincerity in Jaime’s eyes as he stood there, golden and resplendent in the morning sunlight, took him by surprise.

“I know you care for her,” Hyle said, relenting slightly. “But she needs a husband, and heirs for her island. Not a man who will get her hopes up on the road and then leave her behind the second he returns to King’s Landing.”

“I will not leave her behind,” said the Kingslayer. The words were stiff, as though he was not quite sure how to say them, but firm. “I don’t know what I’ll do, in truth, but I won’t do that. I have much to take care of in King’s Landing, but I will find a way to keep her with me. If she wants me to.” He fixed Hyle with a long, unblinking gaze, as though daring him to disagree.

“You love her,” said Hyle. He surprised himself by laughing. “Who would have thought it, Kingslayer?”

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “So do you.”

_“_Perhaps a little.” Resigned, Hyle adjusted his reins. “Well, I suppose I will have to trust you, Kingslayer, much as it pains me to leave Brienne in your hands. Hand.”

“Very amusing.”

“Although it is quite greedy of you, I have to say. Going after Tarth when you already have Casterly Rock, and all of the gold that comes with it. The charitable thing to do would have been to let the poor man win, but I suppose you Lannisters are not known for your charity.”

“Are you finished?”

Hyle hesitated. “Tell her I’m sorry. About the bet. I already have told her, but I want her to know that I mean it. And tell her it wasn’t just Tarth I wanted. Truly. I did not realise it until last night, but I would have liked to have her as my wife.”

He half-expected Jaime to laugh, but he just nodded. “I will tell her.”

Hyle dug his heels into his horse. “Thank you,” he said, as the horse began to trot away.

“Oh, and Hunt?” the Kingslayer called after him.

Hyle looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I would train more if I were you. Your form is very poor, and you need to work on your co-ordination.”

“Fuck off,” said Hyle, and he rode out into the snow, leaving the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth to whatever fate awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do we think canon Hyle has feelings for Brienne or does he just want Tarth? I originally intended for him to just want Tarth but then this happened, probably because my brain can't conceive of someone not being in love with Brienne. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I’m on tumblr @djeli-beybi 💕

**Author's Note:**

> It's been like 7 years since I wrote fic and never for ASOIAF but I've been obsessed with these two recently so please forgive any mistakes! (I need to do a reread of the whole series but also who has 700 years to spare am I right.) Also it felt very weird calling Jaime "the Kingslayer" the whole way through but I feel like that's probably how Hyle would think about him, I just hope it wasn't as annoying to read as it was to type lmao


End file.
